“If we go back to La Luz, we’ll be putting ourselves in more danger than we’re already in. Don’t you see, you’re doing it again? You’re not thinking about saving your own life, so it’s up to me to do it for you.”
“Please, Quinn.” She was not going to allow him to stop her. There was no way she could refuse to help Jacinta and then live with herself afterward, always wondering if the girl and her child had both died. “Leave me and go on to Gurabo, if you must, but don’t force me to go with you. Two lives may depend on my returning to La Luz.”
Quinn let out a long, loud huff, then cursed under his breath. “Dammit, woman, you’re going to wind up getting us both killed!”
Bella Victoria Vargas came into the world at twilight, so tiny she could have fit in the palm of Quinn’s big hand. She was perfectly formed, her head covered with soft, black fluff and her minute features already showing the promise of beauty. Her mewing cry reassured her mother that she was alive.
Jacinta had endured a painful labor process, but a relatively easy birth. The moment after she delivered the infant, Victoria laid the baby girl on her mother’s tummy, then cut the cord and instantly wrapped the child in two small blankets that she had instructed Jacinta’s mother to warm in the oven of the wood-stove.
Alonzo and Lucero came into the bedroom while Victoria held the baby in her arms. Quinn stopped dead in the doorway. His gaze locked with Victoria’s. Her closed-mouth smile spoke volumes. With that one smile, she thanked him profusely for allowing her to return to La Luz.
There was something about Victoria with a baby in her arms that affected Quinn oddly. Partly, he was in awe of her selfless devotion to the needs of others. And partly he was drawn to the maternal expression on her face as she cuddled the newborn before slowly positioning her in Jacinta’s arms.
Victoria turned to the midwife and Jacinta’s mother. “You both know that the baby must be kept warm. Heat rocks and wrap them and keep them in the bed with the baby.”
Both women nodded their understanding, then Honoria led Victoria to a washstand. “You may clean yourself now, señorita. Then you and your man will stay at my house tonight. I will remain here with Jacinta and the child. If you are needed, I will send for you.”
“Thank you. I’ve done all I can. The rest is up to God.”
After Victoria cleansed her hands, arms and face, Jacinta’s mother gave her a pair of pants and shirt that probably belonged to one of the village boys. She checked on Jacinta and the baby once more before going into the other bedroom to change into the clean clothes.
Lucero showed them to Honoria’s home, then bid them good-night. Two kerosene lamps illuminated the tiny shack, casting a warm, golden glow over the interior. The house consisted of one sparsely decorated room. Victoria noticed an old stove, two straight-back chairs and a table with the paint peeling. A cupboard hugged one corner and an iron bedstead graced the other.
Quinn closed the door behind them, then surveyed the room. “Looks like someone fixed us supper.” He nodded his head, indicating the two plates on the table.
“I’m not really hungry,” she told him. “I think I’ll save mine for breakfast. All I want to do is lie down and rest.”
He saw her look longingly at the bed. “You take the bed. I’ll make a pallet on the floor later.”
“You’re the one who should take the bed,” she told him. “After all, I slept some last night and I’ll bet you haven’t slept in two nights.”
“I catnapped. Besides, there’s no way I’m going to take the bed and have you sleep on the floor.”
Victoria walked to the bed, leaned over and then ran her hand across the cool, threadbare cotton sheets. With her back to Quinn, she said, “There’s room enough for both of us. We could share the bed.”
Six
Quinn’s stomach tightened. “I don’t think our sharing a bed is such a good idea.”
“Don’t you trust me?” she asked, her lips twitching with the prelude to a smile. She sat on the edge of the bed and removed her boots and socks.
“I don’t trust myself,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
“I’m tired and sleepy, and so are you. We’re two adults. We should be able to share a bed without feeling awkward about it. After all, it’s not as if I’m inviting you to have sex with me.” Victoria turned down the top sheet, then glanced over her shoulder and bestowed a full-blown smile on Quinn. “I’m just suggesting we sleep in the same bed. Sleep and nothing more.”
After stretching out on the bed, she studied Quinn, who remained by the door. He seemed to be considering her offer. Curling her index finger, she wriggled it at him in a come-here gesture.
He shook his head. “Go to sleep, princess. I’ll join you later.”
What was wrong with her big, macho mercenary? she wondered. Had she actually unnerved him by suggesting they share the same bed? The thought of someone as inexperienced as she being able to shake a guy such as Quinn intrigued her. Did she really tempt him? “Promise me you won’t sleep on that hard floor.” She yawned. Her eyelids fluttered.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” He crossed the room, laid their rifles on the table and then sat. He lifted a banana from the table, peeled it and ate it slowly.
“Promise you’ll sleep with me,” she said again, her voice weak and groggy.
Her eyelids opened briefly. She glanced his way, then closed her eyes and flipped over onto her side. A soft, settling-in moan escaped her lips. He forced himself to stop staring at her. There was nothing he’d like better than to sleep with her, to hold her in his arms all night and take her again and again.
“Promise,” she repeated, the word mixed with another yawn.
“I promise,” he said reluctantly.
He was so damned tired and sleepy that it wouldn’t take much for him to topple over. He couldn’t help glancing back at Victoria one more time, as she lay there in the bed, her eyes closed, her breathing deep and regular. She’d fallen asleep a few minutes after her head hit the pillow.
Just how innocent was Victoria Fortune? he wondered. Did she really think that because they were two adults, they could sleep in the same bed without becoming aroused? If she truly believed that, then she didn’t know much about men. Certainly nothing about him.
What he needed, before even attempting to fall asleep at her side, was a long walk. Maybe a stroll around La Luz would clear his head and give him time to rationalize why he shouldn’t seduce Victoria. There had to be half a dozen good reasons, if only he could think of them.
Deliberately trying to avoid more thoughts of Victoria, Quinn mulled over their situation and wondered if the villagers had thought of posting some kind of sentry to watch for rebel soldiers. He doubted Esteban’s men would attack a village so high in the mountains, but after what had happened at Luquillo, he couldn’t rule out the possibility. Since Lucero seemed to be the head man around here, Quinn supposed he should speak to him.
Just as Quinn stepped outside, Alonzo met him. “How is the señorita?”
“She’s asleep.”
“You, too, should be resting, señor.”
“I will, but I wanted to check with Lucero about posting a guard tonight. Just in case—”
“It has been done already, señor. Two men. One at the east entrance to the village and one at the west,” Alonzo explained. “Please know that we are grateful to you and your woman for all your help, but especially for saving Jacinta’s life and giving my great-granddaughter a chance to survive. She is all that we have left of Fidel.”
Tears on the old man’s cheeks glistened in the moonlight. Quinn had no idea what to say. He didn’t know the right words to comfort him.
“If rebel troops do come here, they will learn nothing about you from us,” Alonzo said. “We protect our friends.”
Quinn shook the old man’s hand, then walked with him for a while, until he noticed that Alonzo grew weary. After they parted company, Quinn continued his stroll through the
village. Not until complete exhaustion claimed him, did he return to the midwife’s house.
Sleeping soundly, Victoria still rested on her side. Why couldn’t she be some willing native girl or someone he’d picked up at a local cantina? Quinn thought. Why did she have to be a client?
The bed looked inviting. He was dead on his feet. And she had invited him to share the bed, hadn’t she? So, why the hell not? After all, he had promised her he wouldn’t sleep on the floor. Besides, he was too damn tired to do anything other than sleep.
He removed his boots and socks, then took off his shirt and hung it across a chair. After extinguishing both lights, he crossed the room in his bare feet. He turned down the top sheet and crawled in beside Victoria. Once lying alongside her, he realized the bed was a lot smaller than it looked. He was going to have a damn hard time keeping their bodies from touching during the night. Instantly his sex hardened. He’d never slept with a woman without making love to her.
I’m not inviting you to have sex with me. He heard her words echoing in his mind.
Maybe she didn’t think by offering to share the bed with him that she’d issued him an invitation for something more. But he couldn’t help wondering what she’d do if he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Somehow he didn’t think she would turn him away.
Get your mind off sex, McCoy, that inner voice warned him. And go to sleep! Once you’ve returned her safely to her daddy, you can find yourself a woman. Hell, with half a million dollars, you can buy yourself a harem!
But the woman he wanted right now was a piece of forbidden fruit. A juicy little red plum just ripe for the picking.
Despite his restlessness, Quinn tried not to move, tried to lie as still as he possibly could. If he touched her, he probably wouldn’t be able to stop until he had explored every inch of her sleek body. And once he took her completely, once their relationship changed from client and rescuer to lovers, he would have broken his cardinal rule about not getting sexually involved with a client. Once saving her life became a personal matter, he would lose his impersonal edge in dealing with emergencies. He might be able to claim some other woman without becoming possessive, but not Victoria. He hadn’t done more than kiss her and already he had to fight the sense of ownership he felt.
Closing his eyes, Quinn longed for sleep. He would need all the rest he could get tonight because he’d have to settle for light napping during the upcoming nights. Until they were safely off Santo Bonisto, he would have to remain on guard twenty-four hours a day. Not only did his life depend upon it, but so did Victoria’s.
Waking with a start, Victoria shot straight up in bed. A large form lay next to her, its big, hairy arm draped across her belly. Quinn! His deep, loud breathing expressed the depth of his exhaustion.
Moonlight filtered through the thin curtains hanging from the two windows, one on each side of the house. Shadows danced on the dark wooden floor and along the plank walls.
She glanced down at Quinn’s arm where it rested across her body. A muscular arm, dusted with brown hair. Her gaze traveled up his arm, noting the pale blue tattoo of an eagle that spread across his bicep. His broad shoulders easily spanned half the width of the bed.
Victoria’s fingers itched to touch his chest, to caress his nipples, to curl her fingers in the thatch of hair that rested in the center and dissected his body in two in a line down his belly and inside his un-snapped pants.
Don’t even think about it! her mind shouted. Quinn isn’t the kind of man with whom you can play games. If you touch him, you’ll wake him. Do you really want to rouse the sleeping beast? Are you prepared to appease his hunger? No, of course not!
She eased herself from under the weight of his big arm, careful not to disturb him. There was no way she could lie there, so close to him, and not touch his magnificent body. She was, after all, only human. And even if she didn’t have a string of ex-lovers, she knew what lust was. Lust was what she felt for Quinn McCoy.
Praying the floor wouldn’t squeak as she swung her legs off the bed, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure Quinn was still sleeping. He was. She stood, then walked across the room to look out the window facing east. East to Gurabo. East to safety. Lifting the curtain to the side, she gazed up at the bright, creamy moon that emitted a pale, yellow-white shower of light over the mountain village. Peaceful. Serene. Untouched by war.
Why had she been so stubbornly foolish when her father had first called and begged her to come home? Why hadn’t she listened to him? Why had she so arrogantly believed that she could remain in Palmira without becoming a victim of the Santo Bonisto civil war?
Had anyone in Palmira suffered because of her? Had Captain Esteban tortured Dolores or Ernesto as he had Julio Vargas, trying to discover her whereabouts? The very thought that her actions might have caused harm to others bothered her greatly. If she had gone home to Texas weeks ago, would Fidel still be alive? Had her desperation to stay where she believed she was needed caused more harm than good?
“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked. “Can’t you sleep?”
She jumped and gasped at the sound of his voice, then swerved around to face him. He sat upright in bed, the covers thrown back, his arms braced behind his head. She swallowed hard. Moonlight washed over his lean, muscular body, tinting his tanned flesh with a coppery glow.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she asked, willing her rioting senses to calm.
Why couldn’t Quinn be less attractive? Why did he have to be so big and macho, so rugged and powerfully built? And why did he, just by looking at her, make her feel so much like a woman, when all the men she’d known before had made her feel like one of the boys?
He pushed a button on his wristwatch and checked the lighted dial. “Nearly one o’clock. We’ve got a few more hours before we head out. Come back to bed.” He patted the mattress.
“I’m not sure I can sleep.”
“Did you have a nightmare?” he asked.
She started to say no, but suddenly realized that she had, indeed, had a nightmare. A frightening dream that had wakened her. Only fragments of the dream remained clear in her mind. Quinn surrounded by a horde of rebel troops. Guns firing. Blood spreading out on the ground. Quinn’s blood!
Shuddering, she hunched over and covered her face with her hand. Tears lodged in her throat as a surreal foreboding encompassed her. Had the dream been a premonition? Was Quinn fated to die by trying to save her? She gasped loudly, unable to bear the thought of anything happening to him.
The thud of his feet hitting the wooden floor gained her immediate attention. She lifted her head and stared directly at him. Overwhelmingly manly in nothing but his rumpled khaki pants, he stood beside the bed and watched her.
“Want to tell me about it?” he asked. “It might make you feel better.”
“I’m not sure anything can make me feel better,” she admitted. “If I could undo what happened to Fidel and Julio and God knows how many other people, then I might feel better.”
“So that’s it.” He walked toward her, halting when only a couple of feet separated them. “Stop beating yourself up over what happened to Julio and Fidel. It wasn’t your fault. This country is at war and they were casualties of the war.”
“If Captain Esteban hadn’t been searching for me—”
Lighting-fast, Quinn reached out and grabbed her. His action startled her, but she made no protest when he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her head down on his chest. She hadn’t realized until the very moment it happened, how much she longed to be in his arms. His big, strong, comforting arms.
“Don’t play the ‘if’ game, honey. You can never win.” While he caressed her back with one hand, he lifted the other and massaged her neck. “You aren’t responsible for the world’s ills any more than you can cure all of them. You’re just one little ole gal from Texas, who happens to have a big heart and an overpowering desire to help people.”
“Oh, Quinn, you’re giving me more credit than I
deserve.” She closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his body, the heady musky scent of his skin and the cocoon of safety in which he encompassed her.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “You genuinely care about people. You seem to be able to relate to everyone on a personal level, as if you understand how they feel. It seems to be your nature to want to help everybody.”
“I should have listened to my father weeks ago when he tried to persuade me to come home. My stubbornness could cost you your life.”
His stroking fingers crept up into her hair. She sighed. He cupped the back of her head.
“Is that what the dream was about? Did you dream I got killed?”
She eased her arms around his waist and clung to him. “I don’t want you to die. I don’t want—”
Putting pressure on her neck, he forced her head up to lift her mouth to his. Her lips parted on an expectant sigh. He swooped down, taking her mouth in a breath-robbing kiss. Without hesitation, she responded. She wanted this, needed this, as she had never before wanted or needed anything.
For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out any rational explanation for the way she felt about Quinn. Lust, definitely. Something more, certainly. But what that something more was, she didn’t know.
While his mouth ravaged hers, his big hand held her head in place, a captive of his strength. He caressed her buttocks through the cotton material of her pants, his hand insistent and demanding.
Her nipples tightened. Her breasts swelled. Her femininity clenched and unclenched, shooting tingles of anticipation through her body.
Entangled together, their bodies straining for closer contact, Quinn and Victoria explored each other with lips and fingertips. She loved the feel of his naked chest and back. She found power and strength in his hard, disciplined body. Her lips planted a row of kisses across his chest. He licked a trail down her neck. When he unbuttoned her shirt, she held her breath. His heated gaze fondled her with urgent hunger. Then he cupped one breast, allowing his thumb to lightly rub across her erect nipple. Reveling in his touch, she tossed back her head and sighed.
In the Arms of a Hero Page 9
